


the wine that fills the cup of silence

by krautrock



Category: Fleshgod Apocalypse
Genre: Biting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-04
Updated: 2012-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 04:18:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krautrock/pseuds/krautrock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francesco can't wait to claim what is his. (Ficlet, gift for a friend.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the wine that fills the cup of silence

He had almost forgotten how strong Francesco’s arm always felt around his waist, and the slight embarrassment of being dragged into a numbered room by another man who made no secret of his animalistic intentions. Truth was they hadn’t been alone together for a long time. Between touring and hanging out with the band, it seemed that the few intimate moments they managed to steal only left them wanting more, and besides, trying to do anything on the tour bus at night always earned the pair constrained looks from Cristiano in the morning.

The door slammed shut behind them, and Paolo immediately knew that he wouldn’t be leaving until the next day, most likely at noon. Francesco had requested the most expensive, luxurious suite the hotel could offer and money could pay; decorated in a way only an Italian could fully appreciate. Every inch of every piece of furniture gave the room an air of eighteenth century decadence, sacrilegious acts and the pleasures of the flesh. All the fabrics had a deep crimson hue to them, even the curtains, which made even the light seem suffocating and perverse. More importantly, there was a bottle of red wine on the nightstand. This presence was always a portent of Francesco’s mood. The bottle, visible to even the most distracted of eyes, had a very specific meaning for the two of them. It meant that Francesco was in a predatory mood, he had been deprived of a slow kill for too long and was about to break.

He didn’t have much time to admire the furniture, because Francesco had embraced him from behind, roughly pushing his long hair out of the way to expose his neck, such a delectable spot for a leopard to bite his prey. He bit down hard, trying to taste as much of that sweet skin he so craved as was possible in such an awkward position. Paolo allowed himself to moan in surprise, having missed the attention, the vampiric hunger of his powerful lover.

Francesco’s hands were running all over his chest now, snaking their way under his shirt, it was as if he had multiple arms, such was the speed and skill he showed in his effort to once again mark that flesh as his possession, his rightful territory. He slowed down to gently tease Paolo’s nipples, feeling them harden under his touch, chest heaving as his heart rate accelerated, memories of past encounters running through his mind, clouding it with desire. He could feel the heat of Francesco’s body against his own, that desperate erection grinding against his ass in a motion that was anything but innocent. He knew that Francesco would hold back, tease him until he couldn’t take it anymore and had to beg to take the other man inside him.

They were quickly undressed by eight lightning tentacles, and Paolo had to forgive Francesco for ripping the neck of his favorite Carcass tee, in an attempt to reveal his form as fast as possible, then throwing him onto the bed, pressing their burning bodies together for the first time in weeks, almost lost among the luxurious red satin sheets and endless pillows that littered their temporary love nest.

They traded kisses, not exactly chaste, letting their tongues tease each other, and Paolo felt a sharp sting across his bottom lip; Francesco had bit him, and was sucking the blood out like a hungry animal, ignoring Paolo’s soft cry of pain. He had been expecting the violence to begin, but so early on, it felt like a warning sign. He resigned himself to be broken once again, knowing that Francesco would always be there to nurse him back to life.

Francesco stopped suddenly to watch the aftermath of his attack on the other man. Paolo looked flushed, his eyes heavily lidded in an expression of surrender, lip still leaking blood across his cheek. He looked like everything Francesco loved about him. His stoic, motherly act was a mere cover for a strong masochistic resolve, the desire to be owned by someone able to overpower him. Paolo was far from a weak, feminine little flower, he was a strong man, and could only be taken by a stronger man. Francesco had always felt that this was what made him seek out Paolo in particular; he would only deliver himself to someone who earned the right. Someone like Francesco.

Reaching across the nightstand, he grabbed a bottle of what was quite obviously lube and placed it next to the wine. It was time to make Paolo beg for it.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a full oneshot but I ended up cutting it short. Woops.


End file.
